Paradise by the Dashboard Light
by sana-chan9
Summary: Sherlock realizes that he's in love the way he solves crimes at the Yard. Quickly and surprisingly enough, the information hits him like a ton of bricks. (M for gratuitous swearing. soz)
1. Chapter 1

This is for nofirewithoutsparks for finishing that exam block! I DUN'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS BUT GREAT JOB SWEETIE! :DDD

I swear I'm working on the other stories.

Promise.

And I don't own the BBC Sherlock or "Paradise by the Dashboard Light"

I just love both. BOTH.

P.S. This is in kind of a weird perspective. It's 3rd person but not omniscient. Sherlock is the main focus. REMEMBER THAAAAAAAAT. It's a new thing I'm messing with. Essentially if it's not in quotes or descriptive then it's Sherlock's thoughts.

*flails*

oOoOo

John does not make noise, Sherlock notices one day. John also does not hum, nor does he think too loudly, and he even watches his godforsaken TV shows at a decent volume. So when John spends an entire week, _a bleeding week_ humming a song Sherlock does not recognize, it's safe to say it irritates the living hell out of him.

He dances around the flat when he thinks Sherlock isn't there, and sings softly, swaying his hips and _fuck, is that falsetto?_ Sherlock learned from Mycroft how easy it was to bug the flat, and while sweeping the flat for any bugs he thinks to place a couple of his own. So when John returns and he's not there, asleep, or whatever, he knows what John did. It's not creepy. Not at all.

Sherlock looks down, pawing gently at the slight rise in his trousers. He had meant to spend the day cleaning out his Mind Palace, but attempting to tidy up John's section (which took up more space than he was willing to let on) had only served to distract him. He had, of course, spent the entire night watching the footage of John when he's not around, and it had effectively stuck itself quite firmly in his Mind Palace, only adding to the chaotic mess that is John's section.

He pushes the thought out of his head, fingers laced under his chin as his thoughts drifted back to his tiny flatmate.

It's also safe to say that John is always masculine. Everything he does is manly; when he drinks at the pub with the boys, or even from the domestic way he makes Sherlock tea, to the color of his jumpers, and his fondness for hedgehogs. What would be seen as effeminate or even gay on anyone else is just sweet on John. That's what is so irritating about the man. He is so startlingly straight that if he didn't spend so long staring at Sherlock's arse, mouth, neck, arms, hell, _everywhere_ on the bloody detective Sherlock would definitely believe he was straight.

And even if he _was_ straight, Sherlock would do everything in his power to change his mind.

Which is exactly what he is doing now.

Sherlock checks the time briefly, counting down the seconds before John is scheduled to burst through the door.

_5…4…3…2…1 and a half…1… __.__5… __.__4… __.__3…_

John burst through the door, cheeks rosy from the cold weather outside, chattering brightly about his day as he took off his coat. He seems to be recounting a funny story that Sherlock can't seem to pay attention to.

It only pisses Sherlock off because not only was he abysmally wrong about the time, but John had a fantastic day and he wasn't the cause of it.

"Sherlock?" John inquires patiently, giving him a funny stare.

"What." Sherlock snaps back, immediately feeling embarrassed and rolling over on the couch to hide his flushed face. He feels even more embarrassed after noticing it in the first place because he is _Sherlock fucking Holmes_ and why the fuck is he embarrassed and decidedly more sweary and what the absolute _fuck_ is John talking about and-

"Sherlock!" Oh. John appears to be solemn now and of _course_ it's because of Sherlock. The detective doesn't need to look at John to know that he's ruined his entire day, of course he has, and now John probably wants to leave and go back to that _stupid_ clinic and sing that _stupid fucking song _and now he won't _shut the fuck up_ about some dumb story and why is he so vibrant when he's with _anyone_ other than Sherlock and-

"FUCK!" Sherlock yells, damn near flipping off the couch and storming out of the room. He goes up to his bedroom, and he's _pissed_ and he has no idea why and John, John, _John_…

is knocking on the door.

Oh.

John is knocking on the door.

"Sherlock?" John's voice softens. Sherlock takes pride in that because it's the one John only uses around him. He's got several tones, but Sherlock's favourites are Doctor-John, Army-John, and Appeasing-Sherlock-John. The door clicks open and John walks in slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. The analogy is not lost on Sherlock. John continues, raising his arms and brushing against Sherlock's, and _oh_ he's now giving the taller man a hug and Sherlock feels a lump in his throat and

He looks down at John and realizes he's in love.

_Fuck_.

oOoOo

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 

I feel like it's kinda written weirdly. Herp derp.

That's how I imagine Sherlock falling in love. That's how I fall in like. I go from jealous for no reason to suddenly "lol oh hey I probably like this person. Well, damn."

LOLOLOLOL


	2. Chapter 2

DAMNIT SO I JUST REREAD THIS AND AHH WHY IS IT SO CHAPTER-Y FUCK FUCK FUCK I'M TOO LAZY FOR THIS SHIT LOL

Disclaimer: Fuck

AN: Fuck. This blows. Sorry D:

Also my Sherlock is sweary and there is absolutely nothing anyone can do about it.

oOoOo

Now John is rubbing Sherlock's back slowly and _goddamnit_ he knows he's going to be hard in a few fucking seconds if John doesn't _knock that the fuck off right fucking no- oh fuck_.

He's hard. Oh sweet mother of Jesus he's hard and he knows this is a massive hyperbole but in a few seconds he's going to rip through his trousers and poke John's eye out and John will run screaming into the night and never be seen again.

And the more he tries to will it away the harder he gets and John is mumbling softly with his lips pressed into Sherlock's neck right now because he thinks that he's _upset_ Sherlock but that isn't true at all.

Sherlock doesn't know how to tell John that the only thing he's upset about is the fact that apparently he "wants the butt" (he's learned a lot from the internet) but there's nothing he can do about it.

John takes this moment to look up at Sherlock, lips brushing against his chin as he whispers more apologies and what kind of fucking self-respecting _army doctor_ punctuates each "I'm sorry, love" with a kiss and wait

_Hold the fuck up_

Sherlock's mind comes careening to an abrupt halt, and manages to catch the last bit of John's apologies with a stuttered gasp that makes John back up.

"Sherlock?" _And oh fuck now he's moving away and he probably knows that Sherlock's hard as a fucking _rock_ and he heard that gasp and now Sherlock's going to get his ass kicked like he did-_

"Sherlock." _Back in high school when he accidentally hit on-_

"Sherlock!" _One of the straightest kids in his class who, by the way, was actually_ totally _fucking gay but that's not really important-_

"Goddamnit, Sherlock!"

_Oh._

John's even closer now, wrapping both arms around Sherlock in what is supposed to be a calming gesture? Sherlock knows this isn't normally how Doctor-John calms down hyperventilating patients and oh fuck he really is hyperventilating and _oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_ and now he's sitting down and what the fuck is happening and suddenly he's been slapped.

Oh. Huh.

"John…" Sherlock starts slowly, rubbing his jaw and taking note of the fact that not only is he now sitting, but John is currently kneeling between his legs, eyes wide, with his hands resting quite high on Sherlock's thighs. Thankfully his erection has flagged quite a bit during his almost-not-quite panic attack but it doesn't look like that lull's going to last very long when those hands slowly slide up and down in a calming gesture that has Sherlock reeling.

"Sherlock. Are you okay?" John looks surprisingly worried, eyes taking in every bit of Sherlock and don't think for a fucking second he didn't see John's gaze stick to his crotch longer than it probably should have.

He takes a deep breath, leaning forward till his forehead is resting against John's and his eyes flutter shut and _oh god_ he can't see John's expression, no no_ no nonononono noooo thank you, sir_.

He does hear the sharp intake of breath, though.

And he feels those hands slide to his hips.

John's nose presses gently to the side of his.

The slight gust of breath on his cheek, stuttering softly.

And finally the quick press of lips on his.

Huh.

He doesn't feel the electric shock that most people wish desperately for, but he sure as hell feels a burning in his chest that he can't blame on that spicy-ass curry he picked at during breakfast. He blindly chases John's mouth when he goes to move away, and his lips move slowly over John's, and he feels a spike of _fuck you, motherfuckers_ when the realization hits him that no one at John's stupid fucking clinic has ever had him like this.

_Especially not Sarah._ Sherlock worked himself damn near to the bone to ensure that.

As John pulls away, Sherlock draws his bottom lip into his mouth slightly and opens his eyes slowly, grin forming on his mouth before he can help himself. John gasps again, face lighting up as if someone rudely stuck a candle in him, the force of his happiness damn near blinding Sherlock.

Sherlock can't help but wonder how long a candle would stay lit in someone's stomach. If the person was dead it probably wouldn't last long but what if-

"Sherlock," John sighs breathily, leaning forward again.

Sherlock blinks stupidly, train of thought completely forgotten as his head tilts automatically to press his mouth to John's in a decidedly dirtier way that involved more tongue than he had originally expected, but not enough at the same time.

He feels John retreating again, and frowns when he tries to follow but John turns away. His thumbs had been rubbing soft circles into Sherlock's hips and Sherlock has probably never even been this hard before. Not even after watching the cameras in John's shower which totally aren't there or anything.

Not at all.

John gets up, presses a soft kiss to Sherlock's temple, and leaves the room with instructions to remain while he grabs a pillow and snacks for what Sherlock thinks is going to eventually become a (possibly sexy) sleepover and it excites him more than he's willing to admit.

Sherlock remains seated, blinking and occasionally licking his lips to find, to his delight, the taste of John lingering. He categorizes it briefly before laying down, and waits for John's return with a hint of a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth when John reappears in his pajamas.

He could get used to this.

oOoOo

Oh god. Okay. Well this is done. SORRY IT TOOK SO FUCKING LONG UGSERUIOGHAE,GNBSER

Thanks for errythan guys! Expect more stuff sometime in the future probably sometime yeah.

Also you should go listen to George Watsky cause he got me through this nonsense at 7:40am bahaha


End file.
